


My Immortal

by MissMartine



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMartine/pseuds/MissMartine
Summary: There was nothing left for Scully. Slight AU, circa season 10. CW: attempted suicide.





	My Immortal

There was nothing left.

She had lost everyone, one by one. Father. Sister. Daughter. Mulder. Mulder, again. Son. Mulder, again. Mulder, again.

Mother.

Her brothers? Where were they? She hadn’t seen Bill in years nor Charlie in decades. They had faded to the periphery of her life until she believed they didn’t care about her. Maybe they didn’t. She believed she didn’t care about them.

So there was nothing.

Her gun lay cold and shining dully on the countertop in the bathroom. Fast and easy. Poison might be an easier cleanup, but she had lost the romanticism of her youth that could have led her to imagine a death in bed, draped in white, some kind of poetry about her while she lay there waiting to be discovered. Only, not waiting. Already gone.

She picked up the gun. How many times had she drawn her weapon in order to protect someone’s life, to try to stop a wrong from being done, to have her partner’s back. Her partner… Mulder would be affected, she knew, but not the way he would have been in the past. Not the way he was when her life was threatened before, when he had to watch her slipping away in front of him. Not the way he was when he still loved her with the romanticism of his youth.

It was cold and small against her temple, the nose of the gun, small and yet so, so heavy. Her hand shook and she took a breath to steady herself. There was nothing to stop her. Memories that tied her to anything sweet in this life would be severed and she would be free, nothing left of her, either. Hell was no deterrent; not when she lived in purgatory already. She snapped the safety off.

The shot rang more fiercely than she had expected and the fall was swift. The blackness in front of her eyes was complete.

~

Blackness, still, but not of death. What was wrong? She could feel the air grazing through her lungs and the weight of a blanket on her body. And the pressure of a warm, clammy hand on hers. She tried to open her eyes, in case they were closed.

They had been. The scene before her now was painfully, regretfully, stupefyingly familiar. Hospital walls, life monitoring equipment, her body safe and alive. Mulder’s face, leaning over hers where she lay.

There were tears dried on his face and fresh in his eyes. “Scully,” his voice cracked as he saw her awaken, “Scully,” and he bent his head to her shoulder, his body shaking. Scully closed her eyes again, wishing away the dismay she felt in realizing she had failed. Realizing she had hurt him again. But his voice could not be shut out.

“How can you do this, Scully, what were you thinking, how could you just…” He went on murmuring into her hospital gown, his words a litany of heartbroken accusations that she knew she deserved. Tears welled in her own eyes and an ache spread across her forehead that she knew must be from her wound. She had the same questions - how can she? what was she? how could she just survive? How?

Mulder lifted his head again and stared right at her. She couldn’t turn away and knew that he saw everything in her, his profiler’s expertise and twenty-three years of being her Mulder cutting right through her facade and into her mind. He knew what she was trying to do. He knew why.

“Scully, you’re immortal,” he said finally. She looked away then. She didn’t want to be, _GOD, she didn’t want to be!_ "There’s nothing you can do about it.” He offered nothing further. There was nothing else he could say; he loved her and he couldn’t love her and neither could anyone else. She didn’t want anyone else. She didn’t want this.

There was nothing left.

**Author's Note:**

> Rest in power, Chester Bennington. 1976-2017.


End file.
